


Puss In Pearls

by PastelWonder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Cattus Interruptus, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Fingering, Fluff and Crack, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex in Roller Skates, Stripper baby Rose, Voyeurism, You'll see what I mean, did I stutter?, light dd/lg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelWonder/pseuds/PastelWonder
Summary: "You had three rules-""Yeah?" she smiles, still chewing the inside of her lip, and crinkles her nose. "Mmm... spend your money," she pretends to tick them off."No," his rough palms make hushed sounds on her bare skin as they slide down her belly."Feed Milly lunchmeat and raviolis," she looks up and into the corner like she's thinking.His fingers hook into the waistband of her sweet little panties."Touch my pussy and think about you?"
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46
Collections: GingerRose Kink Weeks





	Puss In Pearls

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Ninjantome for the beautiful setting idea. You're the sweetest and the realest <3 ^*^

Snow falls softly upon the rooftop in Tartu. Slow, feather-edged peels which land like tender touch upon the dark shoulders of his long coat and the muzzle of his rifle. It blurs gently his vision through his scope.

Still, he perceives clearly the red double-door entrance to the Estonian Supreme Court.

His exhales comes as a long, measured stream of condensation as he lines up his take.

_bleep-bleep_

The watch on his wrist chimes subtly, cheerfully.

He thinks about whom the message may be from. Ten months ago, he had no personal contacts.

None

_Now..._

Snow drifts. He counts his breath, letting the warmth of her image suffuse him as he watches the entrance to the court.

_bleep-bleep_

Rather than distract him, the thought of her - _if it is her_ \- heightens his perception and calms his mind.

She is thinking of him. From oceans away...

Journalists and their cameras crews begin existing their vans to gather around the courtyard before the short stone steps. As reliable an indication as any his target will soon emerge.

His watch begins a dull, rhythmic thrum which signals an in-coming call.

The littlest finger of his left hand stabilizing the bipod of his rifle ticks once. He is aligned, prepared, waiting.

He deliberates.

He answers on the chance it is her.

_"Mister Hux?"_ it is a formal, feminine voice. Falsely pleasant. Strained with disdain.

He peers through his scope. "This is he."

_"My apologies for the intrusion on your day. This is Melanie? With concierge services at the Vines. We... well, unfortunately we have received several complaints..."_

"Oh?" The still cameras of the news crews begin to shutter in the direction of the courthouse doors. He exhales, feeling his lungs flatten, his body sink gracefully, peacefully, into the arched blue shingles of the roof.

His eyes do not waver from the courthouse steps.

He does not blink.

_"- noise level? And there have been complaints of- Well, we have a strict no-smoking policy in our units, as you know. And the- ah, the_ kind _of smoke is- We have a strict policy regarding-_ illegal.... substances _?"_

The tall red doors part.

"I see."

The girl says something else to him, something he does not hear from the calm, static _roar_ in his ears.

He leads, aligns. Coaxes the trigger.

Far, far away on the courthouse lawn, a woman screams.

His target's skull swings opens as if on a hinge.

He interrupts the girl on the line as quickly, seamlessly, he rolls onto his back. "I will handle it.”

He rings off in the middle of her reply.

"-like _all_ bitches, you know what I mean?"

He hears voices as he exists the lift to the small top-floor lobby of his downtown suite.

"Oh yeah, totally! Like, everyone at that Neiman Marcus is a super-cunt."

"Kay didn't you used to work there?"

"Yeah, and I stole _so much_ shit-"

Peals of high, feminine cackles fill the hallway leading to his front door.

He smells marijuana smoke and sweet, expensive perfume.

His rules were simple. Brief. _Direct._

No guests. No drugs. No complaints. _Do not attract attention_.

Simple. Brief. Direct.

Soundlessly, he opens the door.

The girls are gathered in the kitchen - a space he rarely used before Rose. Holding court at the expansive marble island in various states of undress. Lace panties, velour hot pants, floral bralettes and sheer camisoles knotted over pierced belly buttons. Tube sock, bare feet and-

a pair of white roller skates. On Rose.

Another man would have felt he won a lottery.

Armitage is not amused.

Two of the girls he recognizes as fellow performers from the club where he met Rose. Young girls, with the same glamorous beauty and jaded eyes as his love. The third is Rose's sister. She looks the least comfortable of the lot. She is the most sensible, he has realized in the last ten months, and it is she who sees him first.

Standing like an omen in the shadows of the darkened sitting room off the kitchen. Over take away containers and boxes of biscuits and snack cakes and empty bottles of wine. She leaps down from her perch on the counter by the sink and snaps to attention, eyes huge.

_Oh yes, the sensible one._

Rose, for her part, has not yet noticed him. She is the _queen bee_ , holding court topless in reels and reels of costume pearls around her neck, roller skates and a pale pink pair of panties which say _Eat Me_ in gold foil script. A joint pinched delicately between her long, pretty nails. Hair _wild_. Wearing more makeup than she is clothes. Her head tips back, she paces in place in her skates as wickedly, she laughs at something one of her crony has said.

_Gorgeous_.

Something loud and obnoxious is vibrating through the speakers. Some young man wailing to a cycling beat about how his woman used to call him on his cell phone late night when she needed love-

He cuts it from his watch synchronized with his home controls.

It's stunning, the flash of confusion on her beautiful face and her piping, "the _fuck_ , bro-" before she sees it is _him_ , leaning casually on one shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, staring mildly, blackly at her through the shadows.

She shrieks.

Paige is already in a frantic scramble to tidy up.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Tage!" Rose is visibly blanched, even if her other two cronies from the club look decidedly unimpressed. Much like Millicent, another stray in dire straits he took to shelter for how sweet she looked, Rey and Kaydel have made clear they feel _Rose_ has bestowed a favor to _him_ by quitting the club and coming to live here, instead of with them in the slums.

Rey sizes him up, stilted a little from the glass of Hennessey in her small grasp, as Kaydel greets him with an ever-formal, "Yo yo."

Rose stubs out her joint in the grind of the garbage disposal.

"Ladies," he presses off the frame of the door. Like Death, his dark raiment absorbs the cheery bright from the pendant lights suspended above the island, eclipsed as they are in a thin veil of smoke.

He surveys the spread he has undoubtedly paid for.

"Having a little soiree, are we?" his eyebrow arches.

Kaydel's tongue pops, "Yeah."

Rey snorts as if to say, _Punk_.

He smirks.

"Hey, we didden, um- I didden know you'd be home from work, from your working," Rose is pacing in place by the sink. Small, delicate fingers winding anxiously in her pearls around her soft, pretty breasts. _Eat Me_ , her little pussy tells him in gold.

_Oh I intend to,_ he thinks as he takes his time savoring her nervousness.

"We were just doing talking-" she pipes, eyes darting away from his face and back. He does not need to glance to know Paige is raking rubbish into a bin and hissing as Rey stuffs a small Ziplock bag down her bralette.

"-um- doing talking, I-" his love laughs nervously. He has waded through disaster, sauntering casually to meet her, and now she lays a steadying hand on his chest and tips her head back. Smiles shyly and bites her lip. "I'm kinda blazed, to be like, totally honest-"

"Mm." His large, hard knuckled hands take her waist.

She is soft luxury. Smooth skin and feminine warmth.

"Your hands are cold," she whispers, covering one tenderly with her own before her arms wreath his neck. Between her loops of pearls, her plush, brown areoles are sweetly crinkled. Hard peaked.

"It's fortunate then, that I have a pretty little cockwarmer waiting at home," his murmur burrs softy as his head bends down.

"Ooo, how do I apply for _that_ job?" her anxiousness has ebbed into something softer, infinitely sweeter. Her fingertips dance at the seam of his lips. He smells cake frosting and pussy and marijuana smoke.

He smirks, "I don't imagine you'd like the structure."

Drifting... drifting down...

He can almost taste the gloss on her mouth as she whispers, "Maybe you can be less structure-y?"

They kiss.

It is a tender _welcome home_.

He forgets the bite of gravel and an Estonian winter, the blood spray and the hinging of skulls, and melts.

Inebriated girl-children fill his kitchen with _whooop_ s and _ow-ow!_ s.

Someone - Rey, he suspects, little deviant - caws, "Get it, gurl!"

He cannot believe this is his life.

Rose slips her tongue into his mouth, winds her fingers in the hair at his nape and moans. _Softly_. The way he lives for. Her breasts press against his chest - he feels distinctly the crush of her pearls, the softness of her generous globes. Seemingly of their own accord, his hands travel her smooth skin to dip and grip her plush ass through her panties. He cock stirs, throbs and lengthens. _Thickens_. She kisses him mewling.

Her skates knock sweetly at the toes of his boots.

He hikes her onto the counter next to the sink.

The imps behind him revel and cheer.

He breaks their kiss to laugh.

What is this strange development since the night he took her home with him, too love sick to bear the thought of her dancing another night for any man but him-

_Ah yes._ A sense of humor.

"Delinquents," he calls them all with tender mirth, forehead against hers. Her arms are wind around tightly around his neck, backs of her skates knocking lighting at the cabinetry.

She shrugs a smooth brown shoulder glimmering with gold shimmer dust. "They feel safe here."

_That_ makes his throat tight.

A glance over his shoulder confirms the worst.

One of them has restarted the music from her phone, a female artist this time, speak-singing about "spinning while my hands up" to another cycling gear sounding beat. Kaydel, his Rose's second in command, has taken Millicent hostage and is dancing with her. Cat lofted serenely at eye level as Kaydel makes kissing sounds and soft-raps along with the music about not dropping her alcohol. Like a metronome, Millicent's tail swishes in time with the beat. Rey and Paige are in throws together, dancing chest-to-chest, fingers laced, palm-to-palm. Their small, pert rears pressed out and jiggling at blinding speed. _Twerking_ , is what the children call it. Rey's with professional precision, Paige's in hapless delight.

"Ladies," he calls them graciously, "to bed, if you please."

"Awww," Kaydel pouts, "we wanna show, huh, Millzy?" She presses the cat's cheek to hers.

_I don't care,_ says Millicent's blithe blink.

Rey and Paige are now dancing ass-to-ass, hands linked over their shoulders, winding up and down.

" _Guys,_ " Rose snaps sharply around his bicep. Leaning, loops of her pearls pooling clinking on the countertop, "Papa said _out_. Guest room. _Go-oh_."

Kaydel sticks out her tongue. "C'mon Millz. Mean British man says no fuck-show for you, babies. Let's go play with our clits."

"Give it to 'im, Rosie," Rey clucks her tongue as she rakes bottles of wine and snack cake rations to her chest. Her lilt distinctly Brixton as she tells him with a cheesy salute, "Night, Gov."

Paige is the only one with the decency to look sheepish as she piles crisp packets and liquor into her arms. "Sorry about the mess we'll clean it up later-"

"No we won't! Will we Millz?"

_“Mmrreow.”_

"-kay bye g'night!"

The door to the guest room slams shut.

"They're just gonna sneak back out, you know that?" in a beautiful, sensual, seamless move, Rose lays herself back on her elbows and spreads her thighs.

He forgets sometimes, how many years she danced.

"Come to the bedroom," he murmurs. Though his boot soles stay rooted and his hands circling her soft hips strum her with thumbs instead of trying to guide her to sit up.

_Eat Me_ , pussy calls.

She chews the inside of her lip. "But I wanna fuck here..."

She runs a finger through her own think, pillowy lips, creasing the gusset of her panties between them. The blush darkens with her slick already pooled there. Just from his kisses.

From his touch.

"I'm like, really wet," she breathes.

He palms her big, soft breasts through her pearls. The strands clink, she mewls stroking her lips through her panties with gentle, single-fingered, innocent little _pet-pets_.

He smirks. "You had three rules-"

"Yeah?" she smiles, still chewing the inside of her lip, and crinkles her nose. _Pet-pet-pet_. "Mmm... spend your money," she pretends to tick them off.

"No," his rough palms make hushed sounds on her bare skin as they slide down her belly.

"Feed Milly lunchmeat and raviolis," she looks up and into the corner like she's thinking.

His fingers hook into the waistband of her sweet little panties. _Eat Me_.

_Darling you have no idea._

"Touch my pussy and think about you?" her lashes flutter sweetly as he gathers more of the panties in his hard-knuckled grasp.

That one makes his heart give a solid _punch_ against his ribs. Right as he splits her panties in half with a slow, deliberate rip.

"Okay drama, much," she whispers, watching him watch her panties split over her smooth, juicy mound. She tries to sound put-upon, but slick _strings_ from her slit to the fabric in crystalline trails.

The torn gusset smears generous shining wet down the buttery inside of her thighs as he drags the halves down to the ankles of her skates.

She is _glorious_ , soused. Slick smeared all over her smoothly waxed mound down the round globes of her ass. Her lips are thick, swollen with excitement and red at their seams, and he has not even _touched_ her.

Calmly, with the leisurely authority of a man who owns something absolutely, he touches her. Traces thick, blunt fingertips along the sensitive creases of her thighs slick with her anticipation, cups her thick, plush mound in his palm and _squeezes_ like he's wringing a juicy fruit. Reveling silently in her breathy, "yeah Daddy" and the hot, liquid sting of her rolling down his wrist into his sleeve. He parts slowly her with his thumbs, watching slick web like threads of diamond, glimmering in the hazy of light. Her opening is red, dribbling sap and _gulping_. Tight from their long week apart.

Above it, her clitoris, flushed deep pink and engorged, _throbs_.

She lies back on the cold stone countertop, spreads out her beautiful dark hair and wriggles like a kitten into a stretch, legs weighted down and apart by her roller skates, naked except for her reels of pearls and the diamond charm winking at him from her navel. Back bowing prettily, running small hands with long, sparkling pink nails all over her lush body. Preening.

_Smug_.

He certainly admires her confidence.

"Very beautiful," he praises quietly. His thick fingertip pets her gulping little opening the same way she teased her soaked seam.

Her lashes flutter. "Who, me?" She pulls on her strands of pearls, tugs a loop between her teeth and crinkles her nose at him again.

His gut ratchets. He is _suffocating_ on how gorgeous she is.

Her dark, hooded eyes so beautifully made up - like when she used to dance for him - drink in his long form in one slow draw.

"Kiss it," she whispers, pearls sliding sensually from her lips.

He breaches her with a thick, slow-twisting finger as he bends straight-backed to take her lush, dewy mouth.

She tenses, clenches his finger inside her _hard_ , making his cock ache at the _thought_ , and winds her hips against the counter. Pants hotly into his mouth.

His hand not pleasuring her slowly, teasingly, roams her pillowy curves.

She moans and whimpers, "Yeah, Daddy, _touch me_ " into their kiss.

This girl is like a drug to him. He feels her heat in his veins.

"I should have thought better of it before I took in such a feral little thing," he murmurs, lips plump and wet from their kiss pressed against her ear, watching her lashes flutter and back bow more at the sensation of his voice buzzing down her spine.

"You're gonna hurt Milly's feelings," she huffs back, head lolling aside to give him better access. He strokes her belly with a tender flat palm as he works with his kisses the pleasure spot on her neck. Finger squelching _audibly_ in her tight little cunny.

He smirks against her skin. "You think you are so clever..."

His lips roam her chest, teasing her velvety flesh above her nipples before he nuzzles the crook of her neck and suckles deeply on that sensitive mirror spot.

Her head rolls in the opposite direction. She grips his strong, sleek biceps through his dark dress shirt and moans.

A little too firmly, his fingers pluck at her nipples. The pleasure-pain edge makes her shudder, moan deeper, like a cat in heat, and widen her thighs. Her skates scrape his cabinetry. He swallows one beautiful tan peak as with delicate precision, his fingers roll and pinch its twin.

Her cunt gulps harder at his finger pistoning steadily inside her.

" _Fuck you... bitch_ ," she whispers, eyes rolling behind her flickering, mostly closed lids. Body writhing slowly, involuntarily, dancing to the dark whims of his touch. His tongue trails the faintest line down the hollowing swell of her stomach.

"No, my dear," he murmurs, eyes on her pretty, glistening mound split open for his finger. The slip trailing in a glistening, twisting string to the floor between his boots, "fuck you..."

He bends low and takes in a long, deep breath of her scent.

_Pretty, spoiled little girl_. A scent he carries everywhere. On his clean-shaven jaw. In his hair and in his clothes. Versace _Bright Crystal_ perfume and powdered sugar and lavish body wash and soaking wet pussy. A heady, slightly sweet musk that salivates his mouth.

He used to pant after that scent like a dog inside the private lounges of the night club, breathing her in deep as she ground herself in his lap or planted those strong little hands on his thighs, dropped her head between his knees and used that deceptively soft belly to lift and crook the backs over her knees over his shoulders. Pussy in his face, right under his mouth as the music pounded out an anonymous, dark beat through the speakers in the room, matching the hard thud of his heart.

Now, he can drink it in any time he desires.

He bathes in her now, smothering nose, lips, face all in her sex so that she slathers him. Hot, glistening slick that slurps and squelches beautifully against his skin and in his mouth.

He swims in her, _relishing_ the way she squeals and whimpers, _"Shit!"_ and grinds back at his face.

He adds a second and third finger, thrilled at the way her poor little pussy tries and fails to resist, muscles giving trembling to his relentless forward thrust. He swallows her clit between his lips.

_"Fuuuck you,"_ she breathes. Pearls clinking beautifully as she finds and pulls her own hair.

Over his shoulder, a distance away, someone sniggers.

Another hisses, _"Shhhhh-"_

A third little Cockney crows, "Ow-ow!"

Rose snatches him by the mantle before his head can rise.

Her breath shakes, over the violent rise and fall of her body with her panting breaths, between the slopes of her breasts, she meet his eyes.

"Don't... fucking... move,” if it is a threat, he mistakes it for a whine.

The textured tip of his tongue works itself in that vulnerable little groove in her clit.

She shudders, bites her lip and gushes slick all down his fingers and into his palm. "Oh Daddy, _yeah_ \- yeah- eat it, shit yeah _like that_ \- ahn! Fuck you-"

He crooks his fingers inside her, beckoning her to pleasure as his tongue works her in time with his thrusts. She is all sleek, throbbing skin and salty-sweet taste. Overwhelming his senses. Her golden body trembles, soft generosities quaking beautifully and _fuck_ , he loves a full-bodied girl. Her cries swell against his hearing. She is in his mouth and in his nose and in his heart.

Soft, feminine texture. Like warm silk mousse and buttery syrup. He laps her greedily, alternating between pleasuring her to insanity with the textured flat of his tongue at her swollen, needy clitoris and backing off to suck up her juices when he senses she is getting too close to her edge.

She shakes, cycles the wheels of her skates softly against his thighs so that they squeal lightly against the soft fabric hush of his slacks. Her hand in his hair grips and pulls each time he withdraws before her orgasm. She begs him openly, prettily, "Armitage _please_ Daddy please please _please_ oh fuck me Daddy fuck my tight little pussy please _please_ shit mother fucker come _on_ -"

"No!" she whines the next time he pulls away from her pleasure. Her belly tremors, her fingers against his scalp massage him unconsciously in tandem with her rising tide of sensation, cuing him when she is close.

Sweetly, shakingly, she cajoles him, "I'm sorry about the party and the pot..."

He hums.

His big hand groping her breast abandons her to take up the soft meat of her thigh. He lifts, presses up and backwards until her knee is notched on his shoulder, calf draping sensually down his back, wheels of her skates digging like smooth-edged spurs into the small of his back.

The new angle allows her to take his fingers deeper, widens her thighs so that he can suckle the entire top of her mound into his mouth.

She jerks, lurches against the counter and judders, choking unintelligibly as her eyes roll beneath their lids.

_"Daymn,"_ someone says.

But he is far from done.

In a lushious, gushing _rush_ , his fingers withdraw from her sex.

His love whimpers. Writhes against his strong-flexing arm holding her about the waist. He eats her persistently, _meticulously_ , as his hand _drenched_ in her slicks grasps her thigh trailing the counter like a vine.

_"Shit!"_ she huffs, eyes open and wide the second she realizes his intent.

_Oh, yes._

If he cannot be her only, he _will_ be her best.

He lifts.

Plush though she may be, he is a marksmen, and a hallmark of their trade is long treks with heavy gear. It is nothing for him to drag her body with his as he straightens.

She drags squealing and skin shrilling against the marble counter until just her head, shoulders, and the very uppermost part of her back are still anchored to the quartz.

Hard-gripping the backs of her thighs, he folds her in half.

Her skates help to weight her - they dangle past her head over the portion of the counter which serves as their breakfast bar. Big ass pressed lushly against his chest, he has free, unfettered access to her sweet, swollen labia, clitoris, and slick-dribbling, stretched little hole.

He eats her _lavishly_. With _gusto_.

Down the hallway, the imps howl and caw, _"Biiitch!”_ and " _Ah, snap!_ "

Rose gasps and strangles. Strands of pearls drape gorgeously across her deep-flushed face and her big breasts buoy beneath her chin.

She _gushes_ , trembling. _Panting_. Watching him between the frame of her thigh, through her sexy lashes and the soft charcoal smudges of her dark makeup.

"Milly, _no_ -" someone hisses.

Dimly, through the blood roaring all over his body at her smell and her taste and her _vulnerability_ , presented like this for his pleasure - for what greater pleasure is there than taming such a sweet, pretty little _bitch_ \- he hear the tinkle of a bell.

Not a moment later, Millicent leaps up onto the counter next to Rose.

Her ears prick curiously. She cocks her head and looks him questioningly in the eyes.

Delicately, she kneads the back of Rose's fleshy, smooth thighs with her paws.

He feels the infectious tremor of Rose's laugh as sweet vibrations in her tender cunt.

With one last, deep tonguing at her little clenching opening, he peels off his mouth. Slick webs in thick, separating ropes from his lips and chin to her sex.

"Milly, scram," Rose huffs, breathless, even as her long nails rake lovingly through Millicent's fur.

"Pussy, pussy everywhere," he croons murmuringly as his fingers tease her hole. Discreetly, his hand unclinks his belt. "But not a drop to drink."

"Pssh," she is panting, sweating. Shaking. Skates still dangling past her head. Eying hungrily over the side of her ample body what he is doing with his crotch. "Pussies love the Hux."

"Indeed, they do," he agrees wryly as he palms himself. He is aching, throbbing. A deep, angry red. Head and shaft sleek and smooth where his precum has leaked and smeared him. Dry and rasping where it has not.

"Millicent," he snaps the fingers of one hand and uses the other to saw his thick cockhead sensually against her juicy, throbbing sex. His tone brooks no argument. "Down."

She blinks up at him blithely, _Excuse you?_

Then lays down next to Rose's face.

_Anarchists. The lot of them._

Rose's sweet, musical giggle is cut off mid-breath as he piles inside.

"Shit, _fuck_ -" she pants, "ow ow fuck _too fast_ -"

He claps his hand over her mouth and snaps his hips.

He picks a quick, punishing rhythm, fucking fast and snarling against the stunning, suffocating grip of her wet little cunt. Sloshing. Like a gulping throat, she tries to swallow him. Hands lax in her hair around her face, fingers curling sweetly. Moaning and whimpering beneath his hand with eyes rolling around behind their lids.

Millicent purrs.

His breath stutters, he won't last long like this. Not when he's this deep and she's _this tight_ , at a helpless little angle, body rippling fast with each punching fuck, breasts bobbing wildly under her chin. He thumbs her clit, encourages her to finally - _finally_ \- come for him. He wants to feel her milk him while he spurts deep inside.

Filling her up.

His pretty girl.

She fishtails, fighting the sore, aching feeling. Cycling her hips and taking him _deep_ , until he is slamming into the end of her channel, battering on the drawbridge of her womb. She clenches, seizes. The hot-gushing torrent which follows her seizure-like orgasm soaks the front of his shirt.

He is _drowning_ in Rose as he comes.

Hard slamming. _Baht-baht-baht-let me in-let me-let me in-_

His toes curl, his head tips back. Lower back gripping painfully as his gut twists and his balls draw up.

" _Fuck_ ," he snarls through his teeth at the ceiling as he comes and comes and _comes_.

The _release_ , the loosing of the pressure he carries always with him, is glory. Between her wide-splayed thighs which she spreads _even wider_ , muscles flexing beautifully beneath the soft, she finds and mates their hands. Finger through finger. Palms kissing. Hers straining to hold all of his.

"Love you, Papa," she whispers. Dark eyes shining. Smiling impishly. In a little breath only he and she and the cat can hear.

It wrings his heart and another hot jet of come from seemingly the base of his spine.

He groans and collapses over her on his forearms.

Her legs fold shaking around his hips.

Millicent's long red hair tickles and sticks to his slick, sweaty jaw.

Rose leans up and nuzzles his nose.

"Sorry bout the pot," her breath is thin, warm, bathing his face in gentle, sweet smelling alcohol fumes.

Vaguely, he thinks he's earned a scotch.

"The neighbors a fucking bitch and you should shoot her," Rose is still babbling prettily and yes, he thinks he will have a drink, "but seriously I'm sorry I got you in trouble-"

He thumbs her cheek. Slips her a slanted smile. Did he ever smile before he met her? _Surely not_. "Do as you like."

_Light._ It dances in her eyes as her tremoring fingertips mirror his touch on his cheek and she smiles back. "Kay."

A oneshot by PastelWonder.

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